imagine you’re a campaign manager. you send your candidate out to do a softball town hall, where he’ll answer easy questions gently lobbed at him by adoring cultists — but instead of smacking those softball questions out of the park, he decides instead to “make it into a music,” confusing the shit out of his audience for 39 excruciating minutes, as he wobbles unsteadily like an animatronic dildo.

then your guy appears in front of a room full of women who are angry about the loss of their reproductive rights, and brags about being the hombré who ended Roe.

and then he gets up in front of skeptical Latino voters, and tells a guy who is speaking through an interpreter that people who need interpreters are destroying America.

your worst nightmare is coming true, right before your very eyes. you had hoped to keep evidence of your candidate’s rapidly-increasing dementia under wraps — but now it’s advanced to the point where it can no longer be hidden. for fuck’s sake, even the normally-compliant lapdog press is pointing it out.